"Where'd you go, gorgeous?" Sebastian purred into Kurt's ear as Kurt ran his eyes along the brakes of Hunter Clarington's obnoxiously gold-painted Silvia.

“I got lost,” Kurt answered flatly, peering into the wheel well.

"Really?” Sebastian drawled, sounding far too amused, “Because Wes tells us you wandered into enemy territory."

Kurt sighed. He saw the way things were going to be from now on, the constant pecker contest between crews. Somehow, without meaning to, Kurt found himself stuck in the middle. Well, he could play the game, too. He turned on his own charm as he looked back at Sebastian, batting his eyes innocently. Sebastian bent at the waist to get closer to him, apparently not willing to dirty his faux distressed Abercrombie jeans by kneeling down to actually talk to Kurt on the level.

"Seems like I did." Kurt stood to face the boy. He didn’t like the possessive way Sebastian hovered over him, as if he had already claimed Kurt as his own. "But luckily I made it back without a scratch."

"And virtue intact, I hope," Sebastian teased.

Kurt felt all the color drain from his face. He snapped his head away from Sebastian quickly, looking over the roof of the car to where Hunter stood fiddling with his iPhone.

"The brakes are fine for now, but I’ll need to get this on the lift and look a little more."

Hunter barely glanced up as he nodded in Kurt's direction, not saying a word of recognition or thanks. Kurt hurried off to the sanctity of his own car, ears burning from Sebastian's words, needing a moment away from the fray of battling street cars and hormones to find some semblance of peace.

He wasn't so lucky. Sebastian stalked after him like some large predatory cat, toying with his prey.

"I saw you chatting up Blaine Anderson..." Sebastian's words followed Kurt, but Kurt focused solely on getting to his car, "and FYI, that boy's okay for a good time, but don't get too attached."

Those words unwittingly captured Kurt’s attention.

"Why not?" Kurt found himself asking, genuinely curious. He opened his car door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Because, Blaine's not really the boyfriend type,” Sebastian announced. “He's more the love 'em and leave 'em kind."

"And how do you know that?" Kurt asked, surprised that he even cared. He closed the car door shut behind him, needing to erect a barrier between him and his relentless pursuer.

"I get my intel from a reliable source," Sebastian answered vaguely. "Anyway, best to stick with me, beautiful. I'm all about commitment."

Kurt sat still, doing his best to blatantly ignore Sebastian. He wouldn't give Sebastian the satisfaction of looking up into his eyes and seeing the conflicting emotions building there. Sebastian let his words hang in the air for a moment, hoping Kurt would seriously consider his offer. He tapped on the roof of Kurt's car, drumming his fingers loudly, trying to get his attention, but Kurt kept his eyes glued to the steering wheel in front of him. A few strained minutes passed and Sebastian realized he was fighting a lost cause, so he turned to walk away.

Not that he had any intention of giving up the fight. He was simply calling it quits…for now.

"See you at the starting line," Sebastian called out. "I want to see your pretty mouth cheering me on."

Sebastian walked smoothly away. The second he was out of earshot, Kurt took a shuddering breath, feeling altogether tired and disgusted. Earlier today, when he was busy cursing out his life and praying for this job as Dalton’s mechanic, he hadn’t banked on any of this. He didn’t want any of this.

He wanted to go back to California.

He wanted to go home.

Kurt never made his way back to the starting line. He drove off a short distance, trying to make himself a little more inaccessible. He figured if anything major came up with the cars of the Dalton Crew, Wes would text him. He stayed nestled within the comforting confines of his vehicle, the only thing he had that felt familiar anymore. Six races total took place, but no major wagers were made. More time was spent bad mouthing other drivers than actually driving. Kurt could see the Dalton boys look over at him from time to time, especially Sebastian, and bizarrely enough Dave. Kurt had a suspicion that Dave might be homophobic. There was no mistaking that something about Dave was off, and that he didn't seem to like Kurt, so Kurt would have to remember to keep his distance and watch his back.

Kurt noticed that Blaine didn't race at all, most likely because of the issue with his NOS line. Kurt wanted to believe that he noticed a few fleeting glances from Blaine's honey-colored eyes drifting his way as well, but from the distance he sat Kurt couldn't be completely sure. Besides, a boy that gorgeous had to be attached to an equally gorgeous guy (or guys) somewhere. Blaine had probably been messing around by flirting with Kurt, having some fun at Kurt’s expense. He knew Kurt was there with Dalton. Blaine had admitted it. Flirting with him was probably some form of psychological warfare. He was trying to throw Wes off his game, pure and simple, and cop a feel to boot.

Great. Now Kurt felt tired, frustrated, and played.

Tired had started to win out. It seemed a shame to turn in early, especially since the only thing waiting for him at home was a short night of sleep with the promise of another day spent rotting away at his dad’s shop, but for the sake of his sanity he made the decision to leave. He sent Wes a text asking if they still needed him, and Wes sent him a message back saying that he could head home if he wanted. He also thanked him for all his hard work.

Well, there was that.

Kurt stood and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop and crack of his spine as he twisted his back left and right.

"You can't just do that," a smooth as silk voice said as it approached.

"Do what?" Kurt asked, too tired to be witty.

"Stand and stretch like that," Blaine said, coming into view from the city of lights ahead. "That image does things to people."

"Oh really?" Kurt asked, deliberately bending at the waist to touch his toes, folding his thin body completely in half and grinning at the sound of Blaine's appreciative groan.

'Take that, asswipe,' Kurt mused vindictively. 'Three years of cheerleading.'

Blaine walked past Kurt with a last longing look down at his bent over form and wandered over to his Eclipse.

"Nice ride." Blaine nodded approvingly. "How come you're not down there racing instead of up here...stretching?"

Kurt stood up straight and looked Blaine over curiously, wondering what exactly his angle was.

"Because," Kurt said with a shrug, returning to his car, "I fix cars, I don't race."

"Why not?" Blaine asked, his flirtatious facade slipping a bit.

"Because, it's not for me. I love my car. I love driving my car. I don't want to risk losing it. It means a lot to me." Kurt couldn't understand why he was telling Blaine all of this. Did Blaine even really care or was this a rouse to get into Kurt’s pants? Still, Kurt didn't have anyone else to talk to. Kurt had learned recently that his supposed best friends in California, who had convincingly turned on the waterworks the minute they found out Kurt was leaving, were now too busy with their still fabulous lives to be concerned with him and his problems. Even Chandler Kiehl, an awkward little tadpole gay who had pursued Kurt like the plague for the past year and a half, had quickly found someone new to obsess over. And the Dalton Crew, well, they didn't really seem like the warm milk and lady talk type.

Except for maybe Jeff, but Kurt suspected that Nick might have something to say about that if he did invite the blond boy over for a heart-to-heart.

But out-of-the blue here came Blaine, with his gorgeous hazel eyes, his sexy curls, his open and genuine smile, asking Kurt about his life and looking like he actually cared. It felt nice, even if it might all be an act. Kurt decided there was no harm in indulging in the fantasy for a moment.

"What does it mean to you?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt turned and looked over at the horizon. The lights from the cars were slowly retreating, shooting away in various directions.

"It means freedom," Kurt said with a sigh. "No matter what happens in my life, no matter what happens at home, no matter...what I lose...I can just get in my car and drive away."

A tense silence followed Kurt's words. Kurt didn’t divulge anything more, and Blaine couldn’t think of a thing to say. He understood the need to get away, and his own Mustang had given him that time and time again.

Soon the air buzzed with the rumble of other cars driving their way. Kurt looked over at Blaine, who was gazing back at him with an almost sympathetic expression. Kurt felt a hard lump grow in his throat.

It would be so easy to fall head over heels for this boy, Kurt realized. To throw caution and common sense to the wind and get pulled into the allure of that cocky grin and arrogant charm would be such a welcome distraction from his depressing life. The memory of standing close to Blaine, feeling the warmth of this boy’s body against his, his breath washing over his skin, the many promises hidden in his voice and in his eyes – it made Kurt feel excited and alive.

That realization made Kurt suddenly furious. He remembered how easily Blaine had played him, how he threw Kurt under the bus with his new crew chief when all he was trying to do was his job. Blaine could have jeopardized Kurt’s chances at getting the life that he longed for so badly he would do practically anything, give anything he owned, to have it. Kurt stormed over to his driver’s side door, hoping Blaine would take the hint and back off, but he didn't.

"Look," Kurt said, "don't you have some other newbie to mess with, or some hot guy waiting for you at home? I mean, why are you over here fucking with me?"

Blaine looked startled.

"I'm not fucking with you." Blaine moved away from where he had leaned his hip lightly against Kurt's Eclipse and approached him slowly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, responding with a sarcastic scoff.

"Look," Blaine said, "I'm sorry about before. I really am, but I wasn't trying to fuck with you. Really."

"Well," Kurt said, glaring at him, "unless you can give me a reason I might possibly believe, please do me the favor of stepping away from my car before I run you over. FYI, my NOS actually does work."

Blaine had to smirk a bit at that. Kurt was so unlike anyone Blaine had ever met. He was sharp, fiery, and best of all, he wasn’t so star struck by Blaine or lured by his flattery that he threw himself at Blaine’s feet, which was more than fine for Blaine.

Blaine was all about the chase.

Kurt shut himself inside his car, but Blaine leaned in through the open window.

"Kurt," Blaine said, lowering his voice, "I would really like the chance to get to know you, if you'd let me."

Kurt stared into Blaine’s pleading eyes. He seemed so sincere that Kurt wanted to believe him. He really did. The expression on Blaine's face was enough to melt Kurt's heart, tear down all his carefully constructed walls. But the cynic lurking inside Kurt reared its ugly head. He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine, laughing wryly.

"Yup," Kurt said shaking his head, putting all those ideas about Blaine being a misunderstood bad boy with a heart of gold out of his mind, "right."

Blaine backed away just as Kurt put his car into gear and peeled away into the flow of cars heading out of the business park. Kurt didn't look into his rear view mirror to see Blaine's reaction. It wouldn’t have made a difference. No amount of puppy-dog heart-eyes could have made Kurt turn around and go back.

Blaine watched Kurt go, watched his blue and silver car speed off until it was just a blur of color in a sea of cars hurrying away. He turned on his heel and walked slowly back to his Mustang, smiling to himself. As far as he was concerned, the gauntlet had been thrown and the chase had begun. He was right. Kurt would be a challenge.

Blaine never turned his back on a challenge.